


because if this is us

by kohee



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Romance, potential angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7430197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kohee/pseuds/kohee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, they just keep coming back to one another. Perhaps this is because it's always been him for her, and her for him, above all other people, and above everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. back to what we used to be

**Author's Note:**

> fic; _because if this is us – chapter 01_  
>  relationship/pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson/ed tucker  
> note: somewhat a continuation from where season 17 finale left off.

Monday morning. Barba often hates Monday mornings because he knows there will be a lot to deal with – inevitably a lot of things usually happen over the weekend – and more often than not, some of his cases will end up complicate themselves, and it will be a lot of work just to try and set things into order for everything else to progress.

But he especially abhors Monday mornings now, and this is because he has to report to security detail, about his work, about his cases, about his schedule, about what he is going to eat, where is he going to eat, about where he is going to buy his coffee, basically about every single movement he is planning to make.

It irritates the hell out of him, and yet, he knows that is was a necessity.

The threats have letting up since the arrest of that cheap bastard that was paid to intimidate him, but Barba still finds himself tensing up whenever his phone rings, and anticipating a hang up whenever an unknown number or simply, “unknown”, flashes across the screen.

This is kind of uncharted territory for him. Growing up in _el barrio,_ he had his fair share of scrapes and escapades, but given that he always had Eddie, and Alex to some degree, he never really felt that his life was ever threatened in any way. Furthermore, they were mere kids, shooting off their mouths, and being kids, even in _el barrio_ , you never seem to think that danger is real.

It’s different now, he supposes, and he is aware that there is a very real target on his back, and he hates how this is making him feel apprehensive, and jumpy, and unable to be who he is supposed to be.

Rafael Barba used to be confident, arrogant and scared of nothing.

Barba doesn’t want to forget how to be _him_.

Approaching his office, he gives himself a slight mental shake to rid himself of his reverie, and acknowledges Carmen with a brief nod. She stands up, and motions towards his office.

“Detective Carisi and Detective Rollins are here to see you, Mr. Barba.”

He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and inwardly rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Carmen,” he says, and pushes his door open to reveal Carisi and Rollins standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room, with the latter holding a document file in her hands.

“Carisi, Rollins. Always not a good thing to see you first thing on a Monday morning. What do you need from me?” He asks briskly, unbuttoning his coat and flinging it over his armchair.

“Counselor, we just wanna make sure you’re okay,” Carisi says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course I’m all right,” he answers, albeit tersely. “Surely this is not all you came to see me for.”

“No, we need to talk to you about the Crawford case, but…” Amanda hesitates.

“Out with it, Rollins,” he says impatiently, heading towards the side of his office and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Look, Barba, we are kinda worried,” she says directly.

He takes a long sip of his coffee, sitting down and propping up his legs on his desk. “Well, talk me through it, then. What’s wrong with the case?”

“Not the case. You.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Excuse me, but what?”

Carisi steps in, brows knitting together in concern. “We heard that the DA asked you to go on leave but you wouldn’t.”

“That’s because I couldn’t,” he snaps. “I am the ADA for _your_ unit, surely you know what kind of workload I have.”

“And you wouldn’t talk to anyone about…”

Barba stands up, placing his palms on his desk and looking at Carisi squarely in the eye. Part of him – a very small part of him – is grudgingly touched about the concern the two detectives are showing, but he does not have time for this.

He doesn’t want to waste any time contemplating, thinking or wondering – he already did more than his fair share of that earlier in the morning. He can’t focus on this, because then he just _can’t_.

“Detectives. I suggest that you do not waste my time, because I don’t have a lot of time to be wasted. Now, what is it about the case that you need to tell me?”

Carisi and Rollins look at each other for a brief moment, and then with a somewhat resigned air, Rollins turns to him, all business, flipping open the folder in her hands, and handing Barba copies of witness statements.

“We were looking through the three witness statements, and I think there’s a slightly discrepancy here in the time line. Liv thinks that…”

“Liv?” He says, scanning the statements. “You’re sending her case notes while she’s on holiday in Paris?”

“No, she’s back to work, as of this morning,” Carisi says. “Landed in New York yesterday night and back in the precinct today. That’s Lieu for you.”

Barba pauses in his reading. He doesn’t even know that Liv is back. Actually, he doesn’t even know when she took off for her holiday with Tucker and Noah. She sent him a text two weeks ago saying that she would be away, but didn’t offer more information beyond that, and he didn’t ask.

She needed to go away, he knew, just to leave New York and take her mind off Dodds’ death, to rejuvenate herself and to regroup, and he sincerely hopes she had managed to do so.

He hates this, this strange sense of formality that has settled between them as of late, but he doesn’t really know what to do about it. With everything that went on, and is still going on, he doesn’t even know where to start.

“I see,” he says off-handedly, pretending that he doesn’t see Carisi and Rollins exchanging a look. “Well, walk me through the discrepancies, Rollins,” he continues, effectively cutting off any more discussion of Liv.

* * *

Liv looks up as Amanda raps sharply on her office door. “Barba’s ready to proceed,” she announces.

“Okay, that’s good. Get Carisi and Fin to bring Crawford in, and see what they can get out of him. As for the girlfriend…Amanda, talk to her again and try to corroborate her statement with the other witnesses.”

Amanda nods, and turns to go. On an impulse, Liv calls out to her. “Amanda…how’s Barba doing?”

She looks back, pursing her lips. “All right, I supposed. He seems to be holding up well…but he’s not talking about it. Carisi and I speak to his security detail regularly, and everything is as it is, no more threats have been made.”

“On that note…” Amanda looks at her friend and her boss, hesitating, and decides to plunge on. “How are _you_ doing, Liv?”

Her stomach drops a little at the question. Frankly, she doesn’t quite know how to answer it. Going to Paris had been wonderful – she needed to get away after all – and it was glorious spending time with Noah, taking him to Disneyland and enjoying pastries and croissants. Ed was sweet and attentive and caring.

But thoughts of Dodds were never far away.

It’s not something that could be forgotten with a holiday, and she knows it. It’s a process. And it’s a process for the whole squad, not just her. They’re all still feeling the loss.

“Getting better,” she manages a small smile at Amanda.

“I’m sure your therapist has said all that needs to be said so I’m not gonna repeat all of that, and Liv, you know the squad has your back. We’re here for you if you need to talk about anything.”

Liv does know that, and she’s grateful. “Thanks, Amanda. And…I just want to say, I’m sorry if it seems like I haven’t been there for all of you…”

Amanda waves her hand. “We’re fine. We’re okay, we’re talking through things.” She knows Liv has a lot on her, and she isn’t about to add anything else. Besides, it’s the truth – they’re coping with it well enough, given the circumstances.

“But someone does need to talk to Barba, though,” Amanda says, almost to herself, as she turns to leave the office.

* * *

Barba glances at his watch. It’s almost eight o’clock, and he has not had his dinner. Logically, he really should be packing up to leave, pick up some food, and call it a night. He has court to attend tomorrow, and a grand jury inquiry, and a meeting with the DA.

He stands up, reaching for his coffee cup, and then he changes his mind. Opening his drawer, he takes out a scotch glass instead, and retrieves his bottle of scotch on the shelf, pouring himself a glass.

Sipping it, he turns his attention back to the files on his table. Yes, he _should_ be leaving, but he’s starting to have that jittery feeling that he hates, and the only way he can get rid of it is to throw himself into work.

Too bad for his security detail; they’ll just have to tough it out until he’s ready to leave the office.

His phone rings suddenly, the sound piercing and sharp in the quiet atmosphere, and he jumps, staring at it as it flashes and vibrates and rings.

It’s fucking ridiculous how a ringing phone sends him into borderline panic attacks nowadays.

He picks up his phone, looking at the screen, and feels a small jolt of surprise. He swipes his phone and answers it.

“Liv.”

“Barba, hi. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the office.”

“Well, stay there. I’m just a couple of minutes away. I’ll see you later.” She hangs up without waiting for his reply, and he stares at his phone. He sighs, tossing it aside, and turns his attention back to the case files.

The rap on his office door sounds a mere five minutes later, and he looks up to see Liv entering, holding a brown paper bag in one hand.

“Hey,” she says, slightly awkward, and it’s just so strange, for the both of them. She’s never awkward around him, not in the past.

“Liv,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something about the Crawford case you need to talk to me about? It could wait until tomorrow, you know.”

“No, it’s not the case, it’s…” She hesitates. “Well, I’ve been away, and I just want to check to see if you’re okay.”

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head to one side. “I certainly appreciate the concern of the SVU squad,” he says, “but I _do_ have security detail on me, so I’m fairly sure that I’m quite safe.”

She walks into the office, and grabs the chair across from him, sitting down. “I bought you food,” she says, shifting away from the subject of surveillance and security detail, placing the paper bag on his table in front of him. “I’m guessing that you haven’t eaten if you’re still here at this time of the night.”

He looks at the paper bag, and he remembers all those times they worked throughout the night on cases. Pizza boxes in her office, take out cartons in his office, a pot of pasta at her apartment, takeaway at his apartment, arguing over glasses of wine and scotch until they reached a consensus.

They haven’t done that in a very long time. Not since he found out about her involvement with Tucker.

“Thanks,” he says slowly, opening the bag to reveal one of his favourite staples, fried noodles from a Chinese restaurant near the precinct.

She smiles briefly, lacing her fingers together, seemingly thinking about what to say. “Barba,” she begins carefully. “How’s…everything?”

He knows exactly what she’s referring to, and he doesn’t want to answer her, because he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Fine,” he says brusquely, taking a drink out of his scotch glass.

Liv lets out her breath in a small sigh. “Barba, can’t we talk the way we used to?” She asks bluntly.

He looks at her, surprised. He doesn’t expect this, not at all.

“We haven’t been _talking_ for a while now, Liv – not since…” he hesitates. “Well, you know. I don’t need to say it.”

She leans forward, her eyes on his. “Can we talk now? Hash it out?”

Barba puts down his scotch glass carefully, his mind a jumble. He’s not sure he wants to talk now – not when everything is still such a mess. Him, her, and all that has happened in the past few months, he really doesn’t think they could talk it out in one night.

There’s too much of something in everything.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “This could take all night, you know.”

“I miss being able to talk to you,” she says honestly. “And I don’t want it to be like this between us, with you feeling like you can’t talk to me about the threats. Things went wrong between us because I wasn’t honest with you. And I don’t hope for you to go down the same road I did.”

Something flickers across his eyes as he looks at her. “It’s not that I don’t want to be honest, or that I can’t talk to you about…” he exhales noisily. “Look, Liv. It’s been hell of a time for you the last few weeks. I don’t see the need for me to burden you with my problems. With Dodds…”

She flinches, and he hesitates, before continuing, his voice gentle. “With Dodds’ passing, I know you took it hard. And I know you’re still trying to cope; we all are.”

She takes a deep shaky breath, suddenly feeling like she wants to spill _everything_ to him – but it’s not the right moment, not yet.

If they are what they used to be, she would have.

“Liv, if you’re worried about…we’re okay, okay? I’m okay.” He’ll say what she wants to hear, even if he doesn’t quite believe in it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about Ed.”

He laughs, waving his hand. “I’m over that, I really am. If anything, we’re even on that,” he says, referring to his disclosure to 1PP. He takes out another scotch glass, and pours a glass, sliding it across the table to her.

“We’re not going to sort this out in one night, Liv – but let’s just, I don’t know, call a truce, have a drink.”

It’s his way of telling her that they’re fine. There are still things to work through, but they will be fine.

She clinks her scotch glass against his and takes a sip. Perhaps it’s still some ways before they are back to where they used to be, but this is a step towards the right direction.

She wasn’t there for him, but she will be now.

And she kind of needs him to be there for her, too.

_to be continued_


	2. and i just want to be here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic; _because if this is us – chapter 02_  
>  relationship/pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson/ed tucker  
> note: somewhat a continuation from where season 17 finale left off.

Barba wakes up with a start, disturbed from his fractured sleep as his phone rings incessantly. He reaches beside him, groping for his phone but instead of coming into contact with his bedside table, he only touches air. And his back somehow hurts, and gradually he realises that he’s actually not in his bedroom, and he’s not in his bed.

He’s fallen asleep in the living room, on his couch again, while going through his cases last night. He remembers telling himself that he would retire to bed once he finished one case, but the night had dragged on as he was unable to fall asleep, and he had worked throughout the night. He must have drifted off at some point, though he could hardly remember when.

He’s still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his blue silk shirt wrinkled and his dress pants creased. An open bottle of scotch is on his coffee table, among the numerous files and folders, and there are documents littered all over the floor.

Groaning, Barba shifts himself, and sits up, wincing as a sharp stab of pain reverberates throughout his head. His phone has stopped ringing by now, but still, he rifles through the mess of papers on his table to find it buried underneath a ring file.

He finds hesitating for just a split second before he swipes his phone to unlock it. The number that appears next to the text “one missed call” is a familiar number – his office. He feels himself relaxing, as he checks the time on his phone. It’s nearing eight o’clock in the morning – no wonder Carmen was calling him.

Standing up, he walks into the kitchen and plugs in the coffee machine, as he heads into his bedroom. He looks longingly at his made bed, it’s very tempting to just collapse on it and perhaps get a couple of hours more sleep.

His sleep, as of late, has been fragmented at best, for the past few weeks. Sleep doesn’t come easily to him at all, and he has taken to just throwing himself into work. That way, he could actually get brief periods of rest when his brain eventually shuts down on him.

He has been stressed before, but it has never quite like this, he doesn’t remember ever being like this.

Of course, it didn’t help that his relationship with the one person that usually is able help him sort out his head, his cases and his pressure levels is the actually one major thing that is causing him to lose sleep.

He assured her that they are okay, that time in his office, but the truth is, he’s not sure whether they are really okay. They have been functioning professionally, but things are still not what they used to be. They have not really been _talking_ at all.

He tried, though – he was about to ask her out for dinner as they were wrapping up case discussion with the squad two days ago – but then Tucker waltzed into the precinct, and that was that.

Stepping into his bathroom, he catches sight of himself on the mirror, and winces. His hair is rumpled, his eyes bloodshot and he has stubble on his cheeks. Most of all, he looks haggard and exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in several days.

Which isn’t too far from the truth, actually.

Barba is aware that this is not a long term plan, he can’t keep functioning like this, but for now, it’s kind of working, and he decides that he just has to leave it as it is.

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath as he reaches for his shaver. He may not feel _quite_ human, but he can sure as hell make sure no one knows he feels the way he does.

* * *

Liv lifts Noah out of his chair and gives him a hug, and laughs as Noah plants a loud kiss on her cheek. She hands him to Lucy, and checks the time on her phone. She’s meeting Barba at the courthouse in an hour, and she figures that gives her enough time to grab two coffees on the run before seeing him.

She shrugs on her coat and clips on her badge, giving her son one last kiss before she hurries out of the door. She exits her apartment building, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air, and walks briskly down the steps, to see Tucker waiting for her at the end of it.

“Ed!” She says, surprised, as he walks closer to her, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her briefly.

“I bought you coffee,” he says, balancing the tray with two coffees in his other hand, carefully dislodging one cup and handing it to her.

“Lifesaver,” she says gratefully, accepting the cup and taking a long sip. Tucking her arm through his, she falls in step beside him as they start walking.

“How’s Noah this morning?”

“A ball of sunshine,” she laughs. “You should’ve come up to say hi to him.”

“I wanted to, but I was mindful of the time. You did tell me last night that you had to be at the precinct by eight-thirty this morning.”

“Oh, right, that…actually, slight change to my morning schedule. I’m meeting Barba at the courthouse at nine before going into the precinct. Would you mind dropping me there instead?”

“Hmmm,” Tucker says noncommittally, taking his car keys out of his pocket. “Of course, I can do that.”

* * *

Tucker’s car is approximately three minutes from the courthouse when she taps him on his thigh.

“Can you just drop me off here?”

He glances sideways towards her and puts his signal on. “Here? But we’re almost there.”

“I know, but I want to pick up a coffee before going in,” she explains, as Tucker’s car rolls to a stop.

“Another one so soon, Liv?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh no, it’s not for me. It’s for Barba.” Leaning over, she brushes his cheek with a kiss and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Thanks, Ed, I’ll see you…”

“…For Barba?” He interrupts her.

His tone of voice stops her, and she turns to him in slight confusion. There’s a strange expression on his face as he looks at her, and she notices his fingers clenching, just the slightest bit, on the steering wheel.

“Yes, for Barba,” she says slowly.

“Okay, I see,” he says, and his eyes shift to a spot above her shoulder.

Liv frowns. “Ed, what’s wrong with me getting Barba a coffee?”

“Nothing’s wrong, except…” he takes a deep breath, and looks at her. “…I thought…well. I didn’t know that you…” His voice trails off, and she knows what he’s thinking.

She knows that Tucker hasn’t _really_ gotten over the whole issue with Barba going straight to 1PP with that debacle of a case with his cousin Eugene and the Catholic Church. And although some part of her understands the grudge he holds, another part of her can’t help but feel exasperated with his reluctance to just set it aside and move on.

It’s probably presumptuous and a bit judgmental for her to think this way, but if _she_ can move past it, given her friendship and her close working relationship with Barba, she doesn’t quite understand why can’t he, given that his past and present interaction with Barba is next to non-existent for most times?

“Ed,” she says simply, her voice even, that one word – his name – conveying all she wants to tell him.

He raises his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Okay,” he says again, visibly trying to soften his tone.

She stifles a sigh, and opens the car door. “Dinner tonight?”

He catches her hand, and pulls her back towards him, and presses a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. “Dinner tonight,” he affirms, letting go of her hand.

* * *

Liv hurries up the steps to the courthouse, careful not to spill the coffee in her hands. Barba is waiting for her at the entrance, briefcase in one hand, and a case file in the other as his eyes scan the document in the file.

“Barba,” she greets him, stopping just right in front of him. He looks up, and flashes her a quick smile. His eyes land on the coffee in her hand.

“Is that for me?”

“Just to keep you functioning in court.” She hands him the coffee, and he takes it.

“Thanks, Liv.”

She looks at him carefully. Barba is dressed immaculately as usual – his suit crisp and pressed, his tie and his pocket square coordinating perfectly with his shirt. He looks every inch like the supremely confident ADA he is, but she knows him well enough. She can’t really put her finger to it, but something about him seems… _off_.

“Liv?”

She comes to, as she realises that she has been staring at him. His expression is wry as he looks at her. “You weren’t listening to me, were you?”

“No, I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Never mind, it’s not that important,” he cuts her off, and then hands her the case file he’s holding. “It’s all in here anyway, what I was telling you. I have to head in now – if there’s anything you don’t understand, we can discuss it later.”

“Barba, wait,” she reaches out, her fingers closing around his upper arm. “I just want to ask…are you okay? You seem a little…”

Evidently, he can fool everyone around him but her. The fact that she can just _tell_ that all is not exactly well is just reminding him of that, that all is definitely not well. Even with all that has happened between them, even if they have not been who they used to be with each other, she remains the one person that knows him the best.

That thought comforts him, but it also depresses him, because he knows who she’s with now, and it’s all just _different_.

Barba opens his mouth to give her the standard brush-off – _I’m fine, everything is fine_ – when his phone rings.

He freezes, and he is again reminded, of how much he hates this, his involuntary reaction to his phone ringing.

His phone continues ringing, as he takes it out of his pocket, looking at the screen. The words “UKNOWN NUMBER” flashes across the screen, and he pauses for a split second, before swiping to answer it.

“Barba,” he says, phone to his ear. He listens, and then he says sharply. “We’ll discuss this in our meeting afterwards, Ms. Calhoun, and not a moment before that.”

Liv looks at him, her brow wrinkled. She didn’t miss the signs, his reaction when his phone rang - the rigid set of his shoulders, the way he was gripping his phone.

And she didn’t miss it as well, his barely palpable relief as he realised that it was Calhoun on the other end of the line.

As opposed to…?

She is again reminded of how disconnected they have been from each other. Despite the fact that they had agreed to work things through in that talk they had in his office two weeks ago, it has been one thing after another, and they didn't have the time to engage in anything that is not work-related.

Liv suddenly feels very tired of all the excuses she’s making for herself, and for him.

Barba finishes the call, scowling, as per his usual reaction after an exasperating conversation with Calhoun. He shoots her a glance, as he tucks his phone into his briefcase.

“You’re still here?”

“Barba, are you free to have dinner tonight?” She asks.

“Dinner?” He echoes.

“Yes, dinner.”

He looks at her, thinking, and he comes to a decision. “I’ll be in the courthouse all day for today, but I should finish by six.”

“Okay, then I’ll meet you back here at six,” she affirms, her tone brisk.

He smiles at her, a brief, professional smile, and he gestures towards the courtroom. “I have to go.”

She nods, and she watches as he disappears into the building. As she turns to go, she suddenly remembers Tucker. She had agreed to have dinner with him earlier on.

Sighing, Liv leans back against the pillar and curses inwardly. She knows that Tucker will not be happy – and that’s a _massive_ understatement, of course – but Barba is the person she will be having dinner with that night.

She’s not about to lose one of her best friends, one of her equals.

Tucker will just have to try and understand.

* * *

Tucker doesn’t even attempt to try and understand.

“Really, Liv? You’re cancelling me for Barba?” He hates the fact that he is sounding like a peevish child, but he really cannot believe that she’s actually doing this.

“I don’t think it’s a lot for me to ask you to be understanding about this. You know he’s been getting threats – I just need to…”

“He has security detail. He’s _fine_ , Liv,” he says, his tone snippier than he wants it to be.

“Ed, are you listening to yourself?” She retorts, her tone sharp. “He’s my friend, and I intend to be a friend to him.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue, that really childish, petulant rebuttal – _just friends, really?_ – but he holds it back. It does no good to put it out there, to verbalise it.  

If a relationship has no trust, it has nothing.

“Okay,” he says, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…overreacted.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

Sighing, he steps closer to her, and picks up her hand, squeezing it. “I’ll call you later.”

She lifts his hand to her lips, and kisses his knuckles, in a reassuring gesture. She knows that he isn’t ever going to entirely at ease with this – but that is his issue, and he just has to find a way to work around it.

* * *

Barba is already drinking when she slips into the seat across from him, his scotch glass half full. The waiter approaches them with menus, and she orders a pasta. He half-heartedly orders the first thing he reads on the menu, and by the time the waiter collects the menus and sets down Liv’s red wine in front of her, he could hardly remember what he had ordered.

It had been a long day at court, and amidst that, he had gotten three hang-up phone calls. That had been conveyed to his security detail; not that he expects anything to really come out of that.

She looks at him, and she sees it, beneath his carefully presented veneer, the crease in his brow, the tiredness in his eyes.

“I know, I look like I’m about to collapse, and yes, you’re literally the only person who could tell,” he says, even before she utters a single word to him.

A ghost of a smile flickers across her face – on a deeper level, they are still able to get each other, despite everything.

“Come on, Barba – talk to me.”

“What’s there to tell, really?” He says, spinning his scotch glass. “It’s just…I don’t even know how to say it. It’s the same. Trying not to think about the threats or hang up phone calls, and trying not to anticipate some fuckhead threatening me whenever he feels like he wants to appear next to me…” He shrugs.

“I’ve been checking in with your security detail; the whole squad has been doing it. We’ve got your back; we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

He smiles briefly, not saying what they both know – that when it comes down to it, there’s only so much protection they could give him.

“How’s the squad doing?” He asks.

“We’re fine,” she answers. “Grieving is a process…and you know, we’ve never really lost one of our own that way.”

 _Killed. Gone_.

Barba nods. He respected Mike Dodds, but his brief interaction with Dodds was vastly different from the dynamics the squad shared. He’s not grieving like they are.

Fleetingly, morbidly, he wonders if the squad will grieve for him if he’s to end up dead at the end of all this.

He pours himself another glass of scotch, and drinks half of it in one sip, to clear his head of all the dark thoughts – negative, insecure, uncertain.

Rafael Barba has never ever been insecure or uncertain. All his life, he’d pushed himself through everything with all the confidence and arrogance he possesses. He has never truly been scared of anything or anyone – and all that has transpired over the last few months is driving him to revaluate everything he thought he knew.

And he hates it, he _really_ hates it.

“Barba, don’t overthink things,” she says, and it almost seems like she's actually reading his mind. 

“Much easier said than done, isn’t it?” he says sardonically.

“Barba…” Liv sighs.

“Fine, I get it, I do. But seriously, Liv – this, this whole fucked up situation of _everything_ , it’s fucking shit. It’s making everything I know to be completely…” He stops abruptly, feeling his frustration fading away and just leaving him feeling tired, like he had just fought a losing battle.

“To be completely what?” she asks, her tone gentle.

“To be…well, completely fucked up shit,” he says, a wry smile forming on his face. “Sorry, my Ivy League vocabulary goes out of the window when I’m under duress.”

She laughs, suddenly. That was just so essentially him, she just couldn’t help it, seeing the shades of him that she knows so well. He looks at her, and then he starts laughing too, and soon they’re both almost doubling over with laughter and it’s all just so ridiculous.

Gradually, they stop laughing, reaching for glasses of water to calm themselves.

Barba smiles at her, a genuine smile. “I haven’t laughed like that in, oh God, weeks.”

“Neither have I,” she admits.

They look at each other, green eyes on brown, and she feels that this is the first heartfelt moment they have, between them, since he found out about her and Tucker.

And in that moment, it feels like everything is back to where it used to be with them, the comfort and the familiarity. But at the same time, _something_ else is different, too.

He looks down to see that the tips of his fingers are just centimetres from hers, and for one moment, he thinks about closing the gap, and taking her hand in his. Somehow, he needs to feel that she’s _here_ , with him.

“Liv, I…” he begins, and then he’s cut off by a ringing phone.

Uncontrollably, he tenses, but then she pulls out her phone from her pocket, it’s her phone that’s ringing.

“Benson,” she says, and then her face relaxes into a small smile. “Ed, hi.”

Those two words are enough to shake Barba back to reality, and he draws back his hand, as unobtrusively as possible. He downs the remainder of his scotch as he watches her finishing the casual conversation with Tucker.

The reminder that she’s here, but she’s _not_ with him – not in the sense that he admittedly wants – is almost painful.

_to be continued_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a non-happening chapter. My apologies if it seems to be moving slowly - I'm having trouble in building the continuum of the relationships between Barba, Liv and Tucker. I hope to speed things up from here onwards, so I'll super appreciate you guys sticking with me!


	3. to tell you how i really feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic; _because if this is us – chapter 03_  
>  relationship/pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson/ed tucker  
> note: somewhat a continuation from where season 17 finale left off.

Barba sweeps into his office, his forehead creased in a frown as he sets his briefcase on his desk, turning around to look for a case file on his shelf. By his calculations, he has exactly ten minutes to locate the file, and then he has to leave for the courthouse, for a morning arraignment scheduled in twenty minutes’ time. 

It had been another bad night – he didn’t manage to fall asleep until well past three o’clock in the morning, and even so, he kept waking up in hourly intervals, plagued by a restlessness that was starting to feel normal. He finally drifted off to a more fitful slumber around six o’clock, and had woken up at seven-thirty, which explains the less than desirable rush right now.

Thankfully, he manages to find the file within minutes, and hurries out of his office, looking at his watch. He should be able to make it to the courthouse with some time to spare.

As he walks past Carmen’s desk, his secretary stands up, holding out an A4 sized brown envelope to him. “Mr. Barba, this was hand-delivered to you a few moments ago. Possibly it may be something urgent?”

“Thanks, Carmen.” He takes the envelope from her and drops it into his briefcase, not giving it any further thought as he heads to the courthouse.

He strides into the courtroom, setting his briefcase down on the chair next to him, unsnapping the clasps and taking out all the files and documents he would need for the arraignment. His fingers brush the brown envelope that Carmen had handed to him just now, and on an impulse, he pulls it out.

He slips his finger under the flap and opens it, pulling out the contents.

He finds himself looking at several glossy photos. Photos obviously taken with a long lens. Photos of himself. 

Photos of him in his apartment – him in his kitchen, clutching a mug, standing at the sink. Another one of him in his living room, holding a sheaf a papers. Another one of him in the midst of putting on his coat, clearly about to leave.

The final photo in the pile is one of him sleeping on his couch, surrounded by a mess of papers and documents scattered on his coffee table.

Barba stares at the photo for two seconds, and then carefully slips them back into the envelope, not missing the slight tremble of his hand as he does so.

There’s something so private about that last photo – that he feels almost violated, thinking of the person who took this photo, in his supposed sanctuary, in a moment where he was perhaps at his most vulnerable.

He places the envelope in his briefcase, and closes his eyes, slowly counting to ten.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s fully in the mindset of ADA Rafael Barba. He has a job to do, and nothing, _nothing_ is to interfere with that.

For the moment, this is the only thing he can hold on to. He will not allow them to take this away from him.

* * *

 

Barba steels himself and walks into the precinct, stopping by Amanda’s desk, where she is deep in conversation with Carisi. They both look up at he approaches them.

“You might want to talk to my security detail about these,” he says wryly, dropping the envelope on her desk.

Amanda raises an eyebrow as Carisi pulls the photos. He looks at them, and curses. “Well, fuck.”

Amanda grabs the photos from him and studies them, as an expression of fury settles on her features. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh, that’s very helpful and reassuring, Rollins,” Barba drawls.

Carisi is already on the phone, turning away from them as he barks at whoever is on the other end, gesticulating as he walks to a corner to concentrate on the phone call. Amanda shuffles through the photos again, trying to look for a clue as to who the sender may be, when Liv walks in, with Tucker behind her.

“Barba?” Liv looks slightly surprised. “I thought we’re supposed to meet at three to go through the Barnaby case?”

“Liv…” Amanda begins, photos in hand, when Barba swiftly swipes the photos from her and stuffs them back into the envelope.

“I had something to go through with Rollins,” he cuts her off smoothly. “Just a detail about the witness statement she took.”

Amanda shoots him a look out of the corner of her eye, but she says nothing, much to his relief.

“Oh,” Liv says, her brow wrinkled as she looks at them. They’re behaving kind of strangely, but it isn’t anything she could really put her finger to.

“Well, since you’re here anyway, do you have a moment? We might as well just…”

“Counselor, I spoke to your security team, who swears that they were doing their job and that they had no idea how the fuck that could have happened…but they need you to…” Carisi’s voice trailed off at the exasperated expression on Barba’s face.

“…What?”

Liv scrutinises the three of them, frowning. “Does someone want to tell me what exactly is going on?” She asks dryly.

“Sorry, Barba.” Amanda snatches the envelope from his grasp and hands it to Liv. “But I really think she needs to know about this.”

Liv takes out the photos, and although she tries to keep her expression neutral, no one really misses the flicker of alarm crossing her face.

Barba rolls his eyes and grabs his coat. “I hardly think this is a matter that needs to be announced to the entirety of the SVU squad, Rollins.”

“The fact remains, Barba, that this is a security breach. You, of all people, should…”

“Barba. Rollins. Carisi. My office, now.” She turns and heads towards her office, as Amanda and Carisi scurries after her. Barba remains rooted to his spot for a moment, and then he sighs and follows them.

“Uh, Liv? I’ll call you later, to talk about dinner tonight. We are still going to pick up a pizza for Noah, right?” Tucker interjects, his tone overly casual.

“Oh, Ed, I’m sorry…” Liv swerves, and heads towards him, looking apologetic. _I almost forgot you were there_ , it’s on the tip of her tongue, but she wisely holds it back. She gives his arm a squeeze and pecks him on the cheek. “I’ll call you after I deal with this, okay?”

There are a lot of things going through his mind at the moment – the most pressing question being why on earth does _she_ have to deal with this? The ADA has security detail in place, exclusively assigned to protect him. If there has been a breach, _they_ are the ones responsible.

It’s not the responsibility of the SVU squad, and certainly not the responsibility of Lieutenant Olivia Benson.

But this is not the time, so he swallows his words and nods, and watches as his girlfriend strides into her office, slamming the door shut.

Clearly, she’s pissed off, and clearly it’s because of Barba, because of the fact that she isn’t the first to know about the danger he is in.

Tucker really hates the feeling of jealousy spiking through him.

* * *

“What else are you not telling me?” She says, her tone sharp.

Amanda sighs. “Liv, you know everything that we do. The photos…” she gestures towards them, all scattered on Liv’s desk. “…these are the first visible threats Barba has received, since security detail was arranged for him…” her voice trails off, suddenly unsure. Who knows what Barba has not been telling them?  “…is that right, Counselor?”

Barba has settled himself into a chair, his feet propped up on the desk. He gives an offhanded shrug. “There has been more than just a few hang up calls…but no, nothing _visible_. And yes, I have given everything – times, dates – to my security detail.”

“I’ve been following up on that, Lieu,” Carisi speaks up. “But there really isn’t anything they could properly track…but with these photos, they’re going to pull off all the security tapes from the area surrounding the Counselor’s apartment for the last few days, and go through all of them.”

“If it helps…” Barba leans forward and taps the photo of him sleeping on the couch. His expression of nonchalance falters momentarily, and while Amanda and Carisi do not see it, it does not escape Liv.

“…I’m very sure this photo was taken two days ago.”

“How can you be so sure?” Carisi looks sceptical at his precision.

“Detective Carisi, I realise it must be hard for you to understand this, but unlike you, I really do not forget the clothes I wear at specific times,” he says crisply.

Liv nods, her face intent. “The timeframe is extremely helpful. Carisi, head over there and help them with that process. Hopefully, you’ll be able to find something concrete.”

Barba snorts derisively. “Hopefully. That’s comforting.”

Amanda frowns. “Barba, they – we – are doing everything we can.”

He purses his lips, and stands up. “Great. Meanwhile, if we’re done here, I need to get back to court. In the meantime, I’ll just try my best not to get killed.”

Liv glares at him. “Amanda, Carisi. Could you give us a moment, please?”

As the door closes behind the two detectives, she scowls at him. “Were you even planning to tell me about this?”

He shrugs. “You would’ve found out eventually, if you are following up with my security detail like you said you were.”

“So the answer is no, you weren’t planning to tell me.” Suddenly, she realises that she is _angry_ , but she isn’t quite sure that she understands exactly why.

“Seriously, Liv? I have enough to deal with right now. Reporting to you is the least of my concerns,” he snaps.

“ _Reporting_?” She expostulates, and then draws in a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s not about ‘reporting’, it’s about you being my friend and me needing to know that you’re safe.”

Barba feels his own anger simmering down, and he sighs audibly. It’s all so complicated, and it really shouldn’t be complicated. She’s with Tucker now. That, in itself, is crystal clear. Whatever feelings he’s struggling with - it’s all on him. He may want things to be different, but things are as they are.

He couldn’t change anything, much as he wants to.

“Liv,” he begins, his tone softening. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now. And I’m just trying not to add to it. I have security detail. Everything that can be done is being done. I can deal with this – I am dealing with it.”

She looks at him, and he realises that she can see right through him.

“I wish you would talk to me,” she says softly. “I wish you would talk to me the way you used to.”

“Well, things are not what they used to be.”

Hurt – and confusion – flickers across her face. “What do you mean? I thought we’ve talked through that. I thought we’re okay.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, we’re okay, but things _are_ different.”

She leans back in her chair, comprehension dawning upon her. “…is this about Ed?”

“No…look, let’s drop this, okay? I really need to get back to court.”

She shakes her head. “Barba, the fact that I am with Ed right now has no bearings on the fact that you’re my best friend. Why do you think things are different? Things _shouldn’t_ be different.”

He just gives her a look. This really isn’t a conversation he wants to have right now. Fuck, this really isn’t a conversation he wants to have, _ever_.

His life is fucked up enough at the moment; and he was fine with burying all his feelings, but it’s coming dangerously close to be out in the open, everything he has ever felt for her, and is still feeling for her.

And suddenly, he just feels really tired, as everything, every happening of the past few weeks crash upon him – the threats, their fight, Dodds, Tucker, the fact that he has barely been able to sleep – everything.

Maybe it’s time for him to throw it out into the open, so he can stop pretending, and she can stop being oblivious.

“Are you deliberately being obtuse, Liv?”

She falters. “…What?”

He leans forward, palms on her desk, his eyes darkening to a stormy green. “The fact that you’re with Tucker, makes everything different between us. And that’s that.”

At a loss for words, she could only look at him. He holds her in his gaze for a few moments, and then he turns away, shrugging on his suit jacket and picking up his briefcase.

“I appreciate you and the squad following up on those photos for me. But I really need to get to court now.”

She watches as he walks out of her office, a myriad of emotions all jumbled up within her.

Well, fuck.

* * *

It’s nothing short of a marvel that Barba manages to keep his composure all day in court, given the mess that had transcended earlier in the day. But he functions as he should – getting through another arraignment, a grand jury inquiry, a meeting with Judge Serani.

It is almost seven o’clock when he exits his office, to be met by two officers from his security detail. He stifles a sigh as the men nod at him.

“Mr. Barba, we’re here to see you home safely.”

“Wonderful. I presume you’ll be sharing an Uber with me?” He asks pointedly.

One of the men frowns. “No, actually, we will be driving you back home.”

Barba bites back a sarcastic reply and merely nods as he walks out of the building, flanked by the officers.

As they reach the car, and one of the men pulls open the car door, he hears her calling him.

“Barba!”

He turns around to see Liv hurrying towards him, a determined expression on her face.

“Would you give us a moment, please, gentlemen?” He asks drily. The two officers look at each other and shrug, nodding.

She stops in front of him. “You don’t get to say that, and then just walk away. Seriously, Barba? You tell me that you…you have feelings for me, and then? What do you expect from me? What do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t _expect_ you to do anything, okay?”

“Then why did you tell me that?” She demands.

“Because, I need you to understand why are things different between us. Why I can’t…” he stops. “…because it’s too hard, with everything that’s been happening, and is still happening. This is on me, Liv – it’s all on me. You don’t have anything to do with the way I feel.”

“To borrow your words – are you deliberately being obtuse, Barba?” She asks, her tone sarcastic. “You drop this bombshell on me, and you expect that it does nothing to me? That I can just…go on as usual and you’re the only one that has to deal with it?”

“To be frank – yes. You can just go on as usual. It shouldn’t be any different. I do realise that friendship is all you have to offer me. My feelings are _mine_. I’ll sort it out. You don’t have to.”

“You’re my best friend, Barba,” she says quietly. “You always have been – despite everything. And you always will be. I’m very sure of that. But then you tell me that…and I don’t know, I just…I need to talk to you.”

“Liv…” he takes a step towards her. “You’re with Tucker now. It’s not my intention to complicate anything. It’s just me, and how I feel. You can ignore it, in fact, you definitely should.”

“But it’s not just you, Barba. It’s…I mean, all the while, you and me, there’s always _something_ there and I…” her voice trails off. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not being very fair to you. I don’t mean to make you question anything.” He sighs, and rests his hand on her shoulder.

“Can we just forget what I said? Please? I promise you that everything will be as normal as they can be.”

She reaches up, and rests her hand over his, her eyes full of conflicting emotions. “That is precisely the problem, isn’t it? I don’t think I can forget what you said. Because I think…I…”

He shakes his head, and removes her hand from his, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “No, Liv. Look, I think you need to go home, and think about this clearly. Don’t let me confuse you. Have a good night’s rest, and you’ll wake up knowing exactly what you want, and it wouldn’t be me.”

He turns to signal the officers, indicating that he is ready to leave. One of them nods and slides into the driver’s seat, starting the engine of the car.

“Barba, wait…” she reaches out and grabs his forearm. “You’re right, I do need to think about this, think about us, but I want you to know, I think I…”

She never gets to finish her sentence, as shots rang out, breaking the silence of the night air.

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I should clarify that this will be Barba/Benson all the way, so I won’t waste the time of Tucker/Benson fans.
> 
> 2) OKAY I know that the people getting shot plotline is...really kind of overdone and it has been done really really well by a lot of authors, but thing is, this has been my plot since I started this, so I’m sticking to it. I haven’t quite decided who gets shot though – Barba or Liv or not Barba or Liv. I have plotlines for all three scenarios, so it depends on my mood when I continue this…or if you want to throw in a vote for Barba or Liv or Someone Else or Non At All, it’ll help me out, too!


	4. and all that there is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic; _because if this is us – chapter 04_  
>  relationship/pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson/ed tucker  
> note: somewhat a continuation from where season 17 finale left off.

It’s all happening so fast.

One minute, she’s struggling to grasp her emotions, her thoughts, and trying to articulate them to the man standing in front of her – the man who had turned her afternoon upside down with two sentences.

The next minute, everything is in chaos. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Barba diving onto the ground for cover, the two officers drawing their guns as they swerve towards the direction of the gunshots. Her own training kicking into place, she reaches into her holster, her eye keenly scanning the surroundings.

“Barba, stay down!” She shouts, seeing a motorcycle speeding up towards them. She fires off two shots, and the motorcycle veers, but still manages to stay upright.  One of Barba’s security team has his gun aimed at the shooter – the passenger of the motorcycle – and he fires, but the motorcycle turns sharply and he misses.

“Call for backup!” One of the men yells as he runs towards his partner, and the two of them take off towards the shooter.

Her gun still drawn, Liv makes a move towards Barba, who is still crouching on the ground, hidden behind the police car. She has only taken two steps when the unmistakable sound of an engine revving up reaches her ears. She turns around to see the motorcycle again, and the muzzle of a gun clearly visible in the twilight, aiming straight at her.

Immediately, she ducks, and rolls over, as a shot rings out. She can actually feel the bullet whizzing past her and it just misses her. Cursing, she lifts her upper body off the ground, and aiming carefully, lets off two precise shots.

The motorcycle skids as one of her bullets embeds itself into the leg of the driver. Both riders are then thrown onto the asphalt, as the one who was shot curls up and grabs its leg in agony. The pillion rider – the shooter – clambers up from the ground, gun still in hand.

“Liv!” She hears Barba yelling her name, and sees him getting up, from where he was safely sheltered behind the car.

“No, Barba, stay back, STAY BACK!”

She scrambles to her feet, and sees the shooter less than ten feet away from her, sees him advancing towards her, the gun steady in his hand, sees him cocking the gun.

In her mind’s eye, she can see him pulling the trigger, and gunfire rings out.

And then she feels someone colliding into her, knocking her off her feet and she stumbles, falling over.

She hears more gunshots, and then she sees the shooter collapse, moaning in pain, clutching his shoulder, with one of the security officers standing above him, gun pointing straight at his head. A distance away, the other officer is handcuffing the injured driver, blood still pouring out from the gunshot on his knee. 

“Barba,” she gasps, her mouth dry, and she looks around wildly.

And then she sees him, lying on the ground, not moving.

A roaring sound fills her ears, and Liv feels her heart dropping as she half runs and half stumbles towards Barba.

“No, no, no, no…” she mumbles, almost to herself as she drops to her knees beside him, hand on his shoulder. “Barba…Barba!”

To her immense relief, he lets out a groan, moving to sit up, one hand holding the side of his head, looking a bit dazed. Gradually, he focuses on her, and he grips her forearm with his other hand.

“Liv…are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m fine…are you okay?” She asks frantically, scanning him for any sign of injury, running her hands down his arms, looking at his torso, his abdomen, his legs.  

He nods his head, wincing as the slight movement sends another stab of pain reverberating through his head. As Liv realises that Barba isn’t injured, her panic fades, and a mixture of emotions surges through her - worry, relief, a tinge of fury.

“What did you think you were doing, throwing yourself in the line of fire like that?” She doesn’t mean to sound like that, all distressed and angry, but that she is, she is _angry_.  

Barba shoots her a disbelieving look. “A simple ‘thank you for saving my life’ would be sufficient, Lieutenant.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it! Barba, you could’ve been shot! Again, let me reiterate, what the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

“Well, I _wasn’t_ thinking! If I didn’t move, _you_ would’ve been shot! And I couldn’t let…”

He stops speaking, holding himself back as she stares at him with wide eyes. A silence descends between them, and then he averts his eyes.

“Seriously, Liv, just thank me and let’s move on, okay?” He mutters.

“Barba…”

He turns away from her, his eyes focusing on the flurry of activity around them. Red and blue lights flash as two police cars squeal to a stop in front of the courthouse, along with another two police vans. The two shooters lay handcuffed just a few feet from them, their blood from their wounds staining the asphalt a dark red.

Barba’s face pales as he gazes at the two men, the enormity of the situation dawning upon him, and then he looks away, trying to grasp a sense of normality. “My briefcase…where is it? My…” He looks around, disorientated, as his brain tries to calibrate itself. He spots it lying just underneath the police car, where it must have fallen when he ducked for cover earlier.

He struggles to stand up, and Liv grips his forearm, supporting him as he tries to gain control of his shaky legs. Finally, he manages to hold himself upright, and he has only taken two steps towards the direction of his briefcase, when he stops and turns to her.

“My head is killing me,” he informs her, and without warning, Barba’s eyes roll back, his legs give out, and he collapses into a heap, right in front of her.

* * *

Liv sits in the waiting area of the emergency room, her fingers twisting themselves into knots, a million different thoughts scattering throughout her head, her feelings still mixed up, all jumbled, and not any clearer.

The only thing that is clear right now is that she needs for Barba to be okay.

The doors to the emergency wing bang open and her squad bursts through the door – Fin’s looking worried, Amanda’s breathing hard, and Carisi’s looking panicky.

“Lieu! Are you okay?” Carisi immediately sits down next to her, scrutinising her.

“I’m fine…I’m okay…” she reassures them. “It’s just Barba – he’s in there right now,” she says, gesturing towards the emergency room.

“Was he shot? What happened? All we know is that there was a shooting outside the courthouse.” Amanda interjects.

Liv shakes her head. “No, he wasn’t shot, he just…collapsed, all of a sudden…I don’t really know what’s happening right now…with Barba, with the shooting…it all happened so fast.” She feels herself getting panicky and frustrated, hating the unknown, hating that she doesn’t know anything and she couldn’t do anything.  “He’s a civilian…I should’ve protected him, I should have been doing my fucking job, instead of him…”

Fin has been looking at her, and then he sits down on her other side, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Liv, you need to calm down,” he says, his tone gentle.

Fin’s collected demeanour steadies her a little, and she takes a deep breath, stilling her trembling hands, trying to get back into the role of being the commander-in-chief. “Amanda, have you heard anything about the shooters? Where are they now?”

“Homicide’s taken over,” Amanda says. “They’re both in custody; I supposed they will be interrogated by the team once they come out of surgery.”

Liv nods, standing up. “Then I should be there, I want to know who put those son of bitches up to this.”

“No, Liv,” Fin says. “You need to let Homicide do their job – besides, you will need to give them a statement, seeing that you were in the situation. You cannot be involved in the interrogation _or_ the investigation.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but is interrupted by a frantic Lucia Barba running into the emergency room. She rushes to the nursing station, her words pouring out in a torrent.

“My son, Rafael Barba. I am told that he is in here.”

The nurse rapidly types the name into her computer, and pauses, reading. “Your son is still being assessed, ma’am. Why don’t you take a seat first, and…”

“But how is he? What happened? Why is…”

“Mrs. Barba.” Liv approaches the worried woman, resting her hand on her arm.

“Lieutenant Benson!” Lucia grips her hand, her eyes pleading. “You must tell me what happened. No one will say anything, they told me Rafi has been hurt and that I must come to the hospital.”

“Mrs. Barba, please sit down.”

She guides the older woman to one of the plastic chairs and sits down beside her. “Rest assure, he has not been shot, or anything of that sort. He…well, he took a fall and fainted, and the doctors just need to be sure that he’s all right.”

“He fell? How?”

Liv hesitates. She realises that she doesn’t know how much Barba has been telling his mother. Instinct tells her that Barba would not have told Lucia about the threats; he would not have wanted her to worry.

Just as she is debating how to tell Lucia Barba what had happened in the simplest terms, a doctor emerges from the closed doors of the emergency room.

“Family of Rafael Barba?”

Lucia springs forward quickly, her fingers twisting nervously around the strap of her bag. “I am his mother.”

The doctor nods and flips the chart in his hands. “Preliminarily, there’s nothing wrong with him. He took a hard knock to the head when he fell, but there certainly doesn’t seem to be any damaging signs. For the sake of precaution, however, we would like to keep him in hospital for overnight observation. But he should be fine.”

Relief washes over Liv, and she can see her own expression mirrored on Lucia’s face.

“Oh, thank god,” Lucia gasps, a hand over her heart as she mutters a silent prayer in Spanish. “Can I see him? Please?”

“This way, m’am.”

Lucia runs towards the doors, and then she pauses, turning back. “Lieutenant Benson, are you not coming with me?”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to refuse – everything is in chaos, she needs to give her statement to Homicide, she needs to find out the status of the investigation (even if she is not supposed to be involved).

But then she looks beyond the doors; Barba is lying in there, Barba, who is in there because he pushed her out of the way, essentially saving her life.

Barba, her best friend.

She turns to her squad. “Fin, Amanda, Carisi. Go back to the precinct and find out everything you can. And tell Homicide that I’ll give my statement to them later. I’ll be heading to the station after…” she gestures, and they understand.

Liv falls in step behind Lucia, pulling out her phone and pauses just beyond the door to the emergency room.

“Lucy, it’s Liv…I’ll need you to stay overnight with Noah if possible? Something’s happened at work, I don’t I can get away anytime soon...yes. Yes, thanks.”

She ends the call and slips her phone into her pocket, and is about to step in when she hears Tucker’s voice.

“Liv!”

She turns around to see Tucker hurrying towards her, concern etched upon his face. He stops in front of her and pulls her into a hug. “I heard about the shooting outside the courthouse, and they told me you were involved. Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

She returns his hug briefly, and then gently eases herself from his embrace. “I’m fine, Ed.”

He takes in her dishevelled appearance, and the tension in her eyes, and he remembers the other person entangled in the shooting incident.

“You were with Barba…how is he now?” His tone is careful, betraying nothing, but she senses the underlying tension, and she knows what he’s thinking. But it isn’t a conversation she wants to have right now, so she chooses to pretend she doesn’t feel it.

“He’s in there. Took a nasty fall, but the doctor said he’ll be fine. I’m just going to head in to see how he is, and then I’ll need to be back at the precinct.”

Tucker nods, picking up her hand and squeezing it lightly. “I’ll see you later, then. I’ll be at the precinct, too. Effectively, I am still the commanding officer of IAB, so I’ll need to take this last case.”

She looks at him, confused. “Wait, why is IAB involved in this?”

Tucker shoves his hands into his pockets and sighs. “Homicide told me that one of the shooters is talking. He claims to have received orders from Captain Reece of the 27th precinct.”

Liv feels her blood turning cold. All this while, Barba had always suspected that the threats are coming from within – but it seems almost unthinkable that it really can be one of theirs.

“Of course, we don’t know anything for sure yet, and it’s likely that that man may be lying, but it’s procedural for us to follow up and investigate.”

“Of course,” she echoes, casting a glance towards emergency room, and he knows that he needs to let her go.

“Go, Liv. I’ll see you later,” he says, kissing her, and then he watches her disappear as the frosted doors slides close behind her.

He tries his best to quell that strange, irrational feeling of jealousy building up within him.

* * *

The nurse directs her to one of the cubicles, the curtains partially drawn. She can hear Lucia talking rapidly in Spanish, her tone one of worry, and then she hears Barba replying in Spanish, in pacifying tones.

She slowly pulls back the curtain, to reveal Lucia sitting beside her son, holding his hand.

She focuses on Barba, and then she feels her heart give a little skip.

He looks _terrible_.

He’s still dressed in his work clothes, his previously crisp shirt wrinkled and creased. His hair is dishevelled and sticking up in strange angles, and there’s a beginning of a five o’clock stubble on his cheeks.

To put it plainly, she’s never seen him looking this undone. The Barba she’s used to is confident, arrogant, always in control. Even when he was preoccupied with the threats, even when he was all exhausted from the lack of sleep, she’s never really seen him lose control of being _him_. The man on the bed now looks tired, vulnerable and just a little shaky.

Suddenly, Liv feels a lump rising to her throat, realising how close he came to actual, physical harm, and also realising that this is far from over.

 “Liv,” he says, his expression carefully guarded.

“Barba.” She walks to him and stands on the other side of the bed, feeling awkward. Her anger from earlier on, at his rashness, has completely faded away. It’s inconceivable that she could remain angry at him, looking at him now.

She rests her hand on his shoulder, gingerly. “How’re you feeling?” She asks quietly.

“Like hell, but unfortunately for those who wanted me dead, I’ll survive,” he says sardonically, a spark of the old fire visible in his eyes.

Lucia frowns. “Rafi…”

“I’m sorry, _Mamì_ ,” he sighs, his tone slightly contrived.

A silence settles between them, and Lucia looks at them both, seemingly coming to understand that perhaps they need a moment alone. She stands up, and gestures to her chair. “Lieutenant Benson, please, do sit down. I’m just going to go and help Rafi fill in the paperwork for his admission.” Leaning down, she kisses Barba on the forehead, and leaves.

Liv sits down beside him, struggling to find her words. Their conversation before everything went haywire still hinges in her mind. She didn’t how to finish her sentence back then, and she doesn’t know how to finish it now.

He’s her best friend. That she has no doubt. But everything is too jumbled, too muddled, too confusing, and having just said goodbye to Tucker mere minutes ago, Liv honestly does not know what is going on in her own mind.

All she knows is that she simply cannot let anything happen to Barba, and that she has to keep him safe.

“They caught them,” she says finally. “Homicide’s taking care of it now.”

“I know, I saw them handcuffed. Any more information besides that?”

She bites her lip, and decides to tell him. “They claim to be under the instructions of Captain Reece.”

He gives a start. “Captain Reece? From the 27th precinct? Captain Reece, whose officers I prosecuted?”

Liv nods, and Barba lets out a short bark of laughter. “Well, at least it makes sense.”

“It’s all still under investigation. Ed will question Captain Reece, and…”

“I see,” he cuts her off, and she doesn’t miss that it’s at the mention of Tucker’s name.

“Barba, I…” she breaks off, not quite knowing what to say. On an impulse, she picks up his hand, and holds it. “…well, I just want to thank you. You could’ve been shot, and it would have been because of me.”

He shrugs, and averts his eyes. Hurt flits through her as he gently extracts his hand from hers, tucking it underneath the thin hospital blanket. “I wasn’t trying to be a hero, you know. It was instinctive, because I just…” he stops talking, holding himself back. There’s no need to put himself out there and embarrass himself again, not now. “…anyway, like I said. Instinct.”

She knows what he was about to say before he stopped talking, and a wave of guilt rushes through her, because she still can’t say the words that he possibly wants to hear.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, though, Liv,” he says. “After all, I’m the person they wanted to shoot.”

“They’re upping your security detail – they’re dispatching more teams and it’ll be 24-hour surveillance until this is all sorted out.”

He nods tiredly. “Fine, whatever.”

They lapse into silence again, and then Liv clears her throat. “Barba…I want you to know, that…that you mean a lot to me. And I…”

He sighs, and holds up his hand, cutting her off – he doesn’t want to feel like some fucking consolation prize – _you mean a lot to me, you’re my best friend_ – ‘friend’ is the keyword here. “Liv, I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a fucked up night, and I just need for this night to be over. I’m tired, you’re tired, let’s just…not do this.”

“Barba…”

She’s interrupted by the rustling curtain as it draws back, revealing Fin with two detectives from Homicide.

“Barba, man, how’re you feeling?” Fin asks.

“Like I’ve just came back from the most fantastic spa holiday, Detective Tutuola,” Barba quips sarcastically as Fin snorts with laughter.

“Yeah, you’re all right, man. Detective Farber from Homicide is here to take your statement, if you’re up to it.”

Barba waves a hand, signalling his consent. “Let’s get it over and done with.”

The other detective with Fin turns his eyes to Liv. “Lieutenant Benson, I would need a statement from you, too.”

Liv gets up, casting a glance at Barba, and he catches her eye momentarily before turning his attention to Detective Farber’s questions.

It’s going to be a long night for everyone, and Liv has a feeling that she will not be getting any sleep at all.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

_to be continued_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, no one was shot…for now (muahahaha). I guess in the end, I decided to go down the less cliché path. There are actually several ways I want to take this, and believe me, I was going back and forth so many times on the whole thing, and in the end, I chose the most undramatic way (for now, muahahaha) – but it’s kinda not over yet, so let’s see where my brain takes me to next.
> 
> On a side note, the reviews/comments voting for Tucker made me chuckle – I’m not a h8ter of Tucker/Tuckson, but hey, I have my ship and I am going down with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally the first time I am attempting something long…ish, and in chapters. I’m trying to hash out a believable relationship continuum, so let’s see how I will manage to work this out. 
> 
> I think everyone can sort of guess where this is going, I mean, I think it should be obvious seeing my other fics.


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